


The Maze Runner Imagines

by c_forbes



Category: TMR - Fandom, The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, the maze runner
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, Reader-Insert, Romance, Self-Insert, Some Canon, some AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-04 02:08:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 15,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2905349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c_forbes/pseuds/c_forbes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bunch of oneshots/self-inserts written when I'm inspired. Requests OPEN.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Minho - Sneaky Kisses [AU]

Christmas always brought out Minho’s protective side. He tended to stick close to you during the holiday season, put down to the fact that he had not grown up in a very stable home; never treated to such familial traditions; so it was almost uncomfortable for him to indulge in. However, since you had come into his life, Minho became much more accustomed to the experience. Over the last three years, he had made many new friends, including you, who had come together to host a Christmas party annually. You lot were like a family (the only people who were, to Minho, his real family), so even then, you had Christmas dinners.

Despite this, tonight it was just you two. You both had decided to take a walk around the neighbourhood and look at all the lights strung up on the housefronts.

Minho was lacing up his boots as you stood in front of the mirror, watching your reflection as you slung on a heavy jacket. It was snowing outside, not too heavily, but it was still cold and there was always a chance it could get worse. You tugged on your beanie and then twirled around with a smile as you noticed your boyfriend coming up from behind you. He grinned back, his arms slipping around your neck as he tied your pink scarf til it was a snug fit. His fingers slipped across your skin so gently it only made you beam more. The carefulness of his actions was a different side to his usual playful personality.

“C’mon,” you said, grabbing hold of one of his hands and making for the door as he just sighed about your impatience.

* * *

 Minho’s arm was draped around your shoulders, holding you close as you wandered down the streets blanketed in white. There were many of your neighbours milling around and you and Minho both nodded at them with a friendly smile when you passed. The streets were beautiful, to say the least. You definitely thought the neighbourhood had outdone themselves this year.

You looked up at Minho only to see him wearing a troubled expression. You elbowed him, forcing him to shoot you a glare. “Do you want to end up on Santa’s naughty list?” he asked, eyebrows raised. You elbowed him again.

“You okay?”

Minho nodded. He let out a long exhale before smiling briefly. His arm wrapped around you tighter and he began to speak in a quieter tone. “I’m fine. This is just… It’s pretty cool,” he murmured, his eyes glancing over the street. They finally settled on you. “Thanks, shuckface.”

“Mmm…” you grumbled and resisted the urge to prod him once more. Instead, pulled him into a hug and breathed deeply, immersing yourself in his comforting embrace.

“Love you, shuckface,” he whispered into your hair, so softly you weren’t even sure he’d said it.

“Love you too, ‘Hoe,” you said, leaning back to give him your best ‘innocent’ smile.


	2. Gally - Cancelled Christmas [AU]

Teresa and yourself had volunteered to make the Christmas dinner this year. You thought it would be something fun for you two to do, and afterwards, you could make someone else clean up the mess—it was only fair. It was going well, too; you guys had managed to cook the turkey to perfection, which was now cooling on the counter.

After taking a step back to admire the results, Teresa piped up. “I’m going to have a shower and get ready before everyone shows up, okay?” You just nodded.

Since you had gotten dressed up earlier, you decided to work on some more side dishes. You began to prepare a salad, humming to yourself as you did so. No more than ten minutes later, a booming voice interrupted your concentration.

“Your hero has arrived!” Gally bellowed, coming through the kitchen doorway with a huge pumpkin resting on his shoulder. You smiled at the sight, thankful that he had remembered to pick up the vegetable you requested.

“Hey, Gal,” you greeted him. He hauled the pumpkin into the kitchen and onto the counter, where, unfortunately, your luck ran out. Somehow, he managed to knock into the turkey tray, which sent it sliding wildly, and in turn also caused the pumpkin to be catapulted into the air. There was a heavy thud as the orange guts splattered against the tiled floor, but not without missing Gally. You looked away, expecting to also see the turkey ruined, but there stood Teresa. She had somehow rescued the turkey. Her mouth was wide open as she gaped at the scene, her cheeks slowly growing red with frustration.

“You klunkhead!” Teresa shouted at Gally, who had fallen to the floor in the earlier catastrophe. Still wiping pumpkin from his eyes, he scrambled to his feet.

“Oh, shuck, I’m sorry. Shuck,” Gally spluttered, looking between the two girls, a little scared.

“We almost had to cancel Christmas because of you!” Teresa fumed.

You jumped over the mess, patting her on the shoulder sympathetically before moving towards Gally. You sighed then grabbed his hand, leading him out the room.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, not giving you time to comment on how clumsy he is.

“I’m kinda bummed. I wanted some pumpkin pie…”

“Good thing I bought more than one pumpkin, then,” he shrugged. Your eyes whipped up to his own and you grinned.

“You did?”

Gally nodded. “Yep.”

“Okay. This is good,” you said, mostly to yourself. You leaned up and wiped away a smudge of orange from his cheek. “Okay, go get the pumpkin, then you can clean yourself up. And please don’t kill it this time.”

His head cocked to the side, his lips quirked just noticeably. “We’ll see.”


	3. Minho - Sneaky Kisses [AU]

You were never very good at sticking to a strict plan. No, instead you had to do things spontaneously. Which is what led you to scaffold the wall of Minho’s house.

You fought against the vines and used the drain pipe to edge yourself towards his bedroom window. The night air chipped at your skin but it wasn’t much of a bother; you were far too excited to feel the cold right now.

Finally, you reached the window sill, and after holding your breath, you found it was unlocked. You were relieved; it was going to suck if all of this effort was wasted. You pushed the window up, slowly, quietly, and then climbed in. Minho’s room was neat like usual. You walked over to his bed and flopped down, pulling your phone from your pocket as you went.

You sent him a text. ‘Go to your bedroom.’

Immediately, you received his confused reply. ‘What?’ However, you could hear approaching footfalls.

A minute later, Minho entered the room. “What are you doing here?” he asked, sounding surprised.

You jumped up, eying him with an easy smile. “Wanted to see you.” He seemed taken aback by this, and was quiet for a moment.

“How’d you get in, anyway?” he finally prodded, but then shook his head. “Nevermind. Why didn’t you just come in through the front door?”

“Newt’s here,” you shrugged. “Didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Thomas too. Then what do you call this, exactly?”

You smirked. “There aren’t any witnesses this way.”

“Of course,” he muttered, but his exasperation gave way to a small smile. You two stared at each other until the silence was broken by an incoming voice.

“Minho?” Newt called, nearing the bedroom. Immediately, your eyes widened, and in response, Minho started pushing you backwards. To be precise, he pushed you into his closet, which kind of smelt funny.

“Yeah?” Minho answered, swiftly turning to face his friend.

“You alright?”

“I’m good. I’ll be down in a sec,” he answered, and Newt gave him a curt nod before leaving.

The second the blonde was gone, you jumped out of the closet, marching up to Minho with a deep-set frown. “You’re gonna get wrinkles,” he teased, only earning him a shove. However, he pulled you with him, and his dimpled grin grew close. His lips touched yours briefly, and you finally let up on the sour expression. He withdrew then, watching you with a gaze that made you gooey inside.

“Stop it,” you mumbled, avoiding his eyes.

“Stop what?” he whispered, brushing his lips against your jaw.

“Not that,” you shot back, throwing your arms around his neck to keep him close.

It seemed you two had yet again chosen a new direction as you guys stepped towards the closet, the whole while attached at the lips. You only parted when your back hit the wall, causing a stifled gasp. His mouth continued against your neck, travelling down to your collarbone, growing steadily hungry. You let out a low whine as he nipped at the skin then sucked, no doubt leaving a mark. You gasped again when Minho unexpectedly lifted you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist and you bumped the wall again. You two weren’t very good at staying quiet.

His lips were hot against yours as you kissed, and you felt his tongue graze your lower lip, then your teeth, and you giggled a little at how it tickled. You dragged your hands underneath his shirt, across his chest, slowly lowering them to the waistband of his pants, of which you playfully tugged towards you. He growled, jerking you upwards a little. You leaned back and smushed a hand over his mouth. “Shut up, you’re gonna get us caught.”

He shook off the hand easily. You give him a chaste kiss, but not without biting his lower lip. His face split into a wide smile. _That_ _look_ returned but you forced yourself to keep a steady gaze. As he was putting you down, his fingers drifted across your cheek softly. “Be gone, my mistress of the night.”

As you regained your composure, you were able to mutter a “rude” half-heartedly. He only chuckled at your distaste; you ignored it and spun on your heel, leaving the same way you came.

You had made it to the lawn when your phone buzzed. A text from Minho. ‘You’d make a sucky spy.’ Another message followed shortly. ‘If you didn’t catch that, I got busted.’ One more. ‘They don’t think red is my colour. Try purple lipstick next time.’

You let out a laugh as you set off for home.


	4. Newt - Lunch Date [AU]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idea requested by softball007.

You had wandered to the park with Newt after going out on a lunch date with him. Although lunch had long passed, you were still having a wonderful time, and Newt was being as sweet as ever, albeit somewhat… hesitant? This made you a little suspicious, so in the back of your mind you were anxious in case he was prepping you for some sort of reveal.

When you got to the park, there were mostly families milling around near the playground. Not wanting to seem like an intruder, you two made your way to a bench under the shade of a tree. Newt sat down first, spreading his arms along the back of the seat as he faced the park. He watched you plop down farther from him, only to bring your legs to rest across his lap. You noticed the smile he tried his best to hide, but you said nothing of it. You stared at him while he stared away. This went on for some time, and eventually your gaze fell as the silence dredged on. You began to fiddle with the hem of your skirt. Normally, you wouldn’t feel so worried, but you could see Newt was agitated, even if he thought you hadn’t realised.

“You’re not dying, are you?” you finally said, looking up at him nervously. His widened eyes whipped to the side, confused.

“What? No.” He noticed your unusually-serious expression. “Why’d ya ask that?”

“You seem, uhm, a little… on edge?” you explained, slowly. Newt’s eyes dropped to his lap and his fingers started to run weakly along your legs, tracing invisible patterns. You sighed. “Okay, that’s enough,” you decided, clambering up and onto him, forcing him to be saddled between your thighs. An inescapable barrier, as far as you were concerned.

“What’s up, Newt?” Your voice came out soft and pleading. You rested your hands on his shoulders as his moved to sit on your waist.

“I just, uh, realised something,” he mumbled, avoiding your interrogatory gaze.

“We’re not gonna play 20 questions. Give me something less vague.” Newt remained silent. In response, your fists drew tighter in his shirt and your heart leaped. “Oh God, you are dying, aren’t you?”

Newt chuckled and he pulled your hands from his shirt, instead threading his fingers into yours. “No, silly.” He inhaled and exhaled deeply, rolling his eyes as your brows rose. “I realised… I love you,” Newt said finally.

“And?” you asked, your eyebrows still high.

“ _And?_ ” He repeated, taken aback.

“There’s more, I heard it in your tone.”

“Oh. Well, it’s kinda scary, admitting that.”

You smirked. “So, is there a ring?”

“A _ring?_ ”

“Stop repeating me, klunkhead.”

Newt shook his head, exasperated. “I can barely say ‘I love you’ and you want a proposal?” You laughed, and then leaned forward to press your lips against his. He kissed you back, softly, his hands moving to cup your cheeks.

“I was kidding,” you whispered, looking into his eyes. “You haven’t asked me.”

His brow furrowed. “Asked you what?”

“If I love you back…”

“Oh,” was all he said.

“You’re really not gonna ask?” Your head cocked, confused by this. You felt his palm brush against your skin lightly.

“If I have to force it out of you, it’s not very romantic,” he shrugged. Well, he did have a point. Newt pulled you back to him, capturing your bottom lip between his. Your hands moved up to his hair, playing with his golden curls. When you let go to breathe, you laid your head on Newt’s shoulder and sighed contentedly.

“I do, you know,” you blurted out. You felt his arms wrap around your body, pulling you flush against him. He was quiet for a minute, before eventually replying.

“Good that,” he said, and you could tell by the way he spoke that he was grinning.


	5. Newt - Sleepy Head [AU]

Last night you crashed at Minho’s after the (close-knit) party he threw. You awoke to the sound of Minho and Thomas chattering. You pulled yourself up from the floor and looked around. Wow. You had _almost_ made it to the nearest bed. With a groan, you got to your feet and left the room. Your back and neck hurt from, well, apparently collapsing wherever your drunken and drowsy body had felt like.

You made it to the living room and found the two boys. They were talking amicably as the television blurred in the background. You walked around the lounge and fell into couch. Your eyes settled on the TV. Their heads swivelled to the entrance, announcing Newt’s arrival. He barely seemed to register them as he shuffled through the room like a zombie.

Thomas jumped up then, too happy for the morning after a late night. “I better start some breakfast!” That seemed odd to you, considering they were at Minho’s house, but if he wanted to trust Thomas not to set the house on fire, you weren’t going to complain. It wasn’t like you were in the mood to do anything domestic.

You were dragged out of your thoughts by a slumping body. Newt dropped onto the couch between you and Minho, turning on his side as he raised an arm to cover his eyes. “Why is the sun _doing that?_ ” he groaned. He continued to fidget, eventually landing on your shoulder. He seemed enthralled to find a pillow. His cheek dug into your neck as he nuzzled against your comforting skin, breathing in and out rhythmically as he tried to fall asleep again.

You sat still, in shock over what was happening. Newt was cuddled up into your side, most likely without realising it. However, the precious moment was interrupted by Minho clearing his throat. Loudly.

“Uh, Newt?” he chirped. “Your crush is showing, bud. Like, big time.”

This caused the blonde to rip away from you and jump up straight. He rubbed his eyes, and then looked at Minho, and then back at you. You could see the red crawling up his neck and into his cheeks. Minho started laughing, hard, but Newt just looked horrified.

“Uh, sorry,” he stuttered. “Uh... shuck…” he disastrously trailed off with a mutter.

“It should be smooth sailing from here, slinthead,” Minho started laughing again. With that, he clapped Newt on the back and got up, probably making a beeline for the kitchen.


	6. Gally - Noise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is written in a different style, which I probably won’t do again unless I’m really up to it. Not proofread, sorry.

You can hear yelling. Lately, it’s become that of a common occurrence in the Glade. The voices are getting louder and angrier, by the second. With a sigh that resonates deep within you, you drop what you’re doing and leave the homestead, following the noise with a pinch of curiousity.

It’s Gally and Thomas, of course. Ever since Thomas had arrived, no less than two days ago, the pair had been going at it hard. Gally was relentless in his pursuit. He seemed to really believe the Greenie was no good. You had to admit, things weren’t looking great for him; a lot of stuff had happened since he arrived, but you found Gally’s treatment of him ill-tempered. Even if it was somewhat understandable.

You realise Gally is about two seconds from shoving a fist in Thomas’ face, and no later than you finish that train of thought, it happens. Thomas goes down, but surprisingly, jumps back up and taken his own shot. The boys around them seem a little shocked; some, perhaps, entertained.

You can’t see Alby, or Newt, for that matter, so you pull, what you figure, it a stupid move. You rush into the fighting pair and jump in front of Gally, forcing him off the smaller male. Gally’s wild eyes immediately land on you; fiery and intent.

“Get out of the way,” he orders, taking a step forward again. You ghost him, blocking his path, and you can hear the murmurs of the surrounding crowd.

“Leave him alone, Gally!” you shout. Stupid, stupid, stupid. His gaze widens, and for a moment you’re sure he’s about to direct his rage to _you_ —well, it could still happen, you remind yourself as he attempts another passby. “Shove _off!_ ”

Thomas is by your side then, and you briefly look at him, and there’s blood dripping from his nose. Your eyes snap back to Gally, hoping he’ll let the situation move forward smoothly. Nope, he doesn’t. He starts talking.

“He’s going to get us all killed! Why can’t you _see_ it?” he cries, and you realise, it’s aimed at everyone and no one, more like a cry of despair. Gally is trying to get the other boys to agree. They don’t seem too convinced, except for his builder buddies.

And then he barrels through you and Thomas, too fast to comprehend if there was an oncoming escalation—but just like that, Gally’s gone. You weren’t expecting it, and you’ve almost fallen, save for Thomas catching you last minute. He hauls you to your feet, and you smile gratefully. You nod towards the homestead; a simple, probably welcome, invite.

* * *

It’s dark and quiet and finally peaceful. You’re away from where you usually sleep, near the bon fire, but tonight you just can’t handle anymore noise. There’s been too much crazy for you to handle for one week. So you lie, underneath the leaves of the outerskirts of the forest, staring up at the starry sky. You watch the clouds roll across the moon every few minutes, the only back drop the faint sound of chatter and the crackling of fire. You breathe in deeply, fingering the mesh of your ratty blanket, only to be interrupted by the crackling of leaves underfoot. You stiffen immediately; you trusted _most_ of these boys, but you were still human, and things were still creepy.

“Ah, klunk,” comes a voice you did _not_ want to hear for at least another eight hours. You sit up, and it’s Gally, having tumbled to the grass near you. He’s knocked over your lamp, and whatever he’s holding—

_Oh_ , you quickly realise, he’s drunk.

“Go away, Gally,” you mutter, lying back down. You can hear him tinkering with your light, setting it up right and giving it a satisfied pat.

“Nuh,” he mumbles, and then he’s clambering closer, until eventually he’s looking over you, but not close enough to touch. “This is a nice spot,” he says, glancing around.

“Until you got here…” you breathed, turning onto your side. Gally doesn’t speak again. You start to feel guilt creep into to pit of your stomach. So, you change the topic. “Why are you trying to destroy the only family you have, Gally?”

His voice comes out hoarse, like he’s already told himself a thousand different versions; a million excuses to justify what he’s doing. “Thomas is gonna destroy us.”

Your next words are muffled as you speak into your pillow but he answers all the same. “Why do you keep saying that?”

“I saw him.” And for once, you’re alright with that answer, as vague as it is. You don’t feel like pressing him about The Changing tonight. No, maybe another time, if _he_ doesn’t kill Thomas first.

It’s quiet again, and it stretches out. Finally, you roll back over. Gally’s watching you with eyes softer than you’ve seen in a long time. “You’re gonna get yourself killed, you know. If you keep acting up,” you say quietly, looking back up at him. You see him smile, it’s small but it’s there.

“Might, yeah.”

“Don’t do that.” And when his smile widens, you sit up again, angry. You give his shoulder a hard punch. “It’s not a joke.” It drops when he notices how stony your eyes are. You turn away from him, fed up all over again.

Even the prolonged silences are deafening to your eyes now. You turn back abruptly, still fuming. “You’re not making a good name for yourself,” you inform him, matter-of-factly.

“I don’t care.” His reply is quick, almost snappy, and you know it’s a lie. It’s rehearsed, just like his earlier words.

“Hmph,” you grumble, crossing your arms.

He continues, at least. “I’m doing what’s best. I’m keeping the Gladers alive.” You bite your tongue, refraining from asking whether or not he was choosing the best way to do it. Instead, you return to your nestled blankets.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” you prod, finally. You see him flinch, but he just gives you a look.

You’ve almost fallen asleep when he answers.

“Yeah.”

Your eyes flutter open, although he’s not looking at you. He’s watching the fire, completely turned away from you. In that moment, you really do pity him and the position he’s in. You reach out, your hand eventually hitting his knee. When he glances back, he’s wearing a faint smile. Huh, twice in one night. “You’re going to freeze to death,” you whisper, the tips of your own fingers going numb just from resting on his skin. Slowly, he toss him one of your blankets. It hits him in the face. You smirk. Serves him right for being this drunk, you think.

The night is too much for you now; your eyelids are heavy, but you still feel the sudden pressure on your hand. You’re too tired to care at the moment; besides, you don’t mind he’s holding it, not really.


	7. Minho - Homesick

You were seated on the grass, leaning against a log as you stared into the bon fire intently. You were far too lost in your thoughts to pay attention to what was going on around you, so when Minho dropped beside you, it was a shock. You jumped a little, your eyes moving from the flames to him, and immediately you were startled from your train of thought.

“What’s up?” he asked, and you could tell he was genuinely curious.

“Nothing much,” you replied with a shrug.

“Why’re you so absent today?” Minho pressed, his forehead creasing.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re the one in the maze all day.” He smiled at that, and you couldn’t help but return the gesture.

“C’mon, tell me.”

You sighed defeatedly. It probably helped that his face had morphed into his infamous impossible-to-say-no-to puppy-eyed expression. “Just feelin’ a little a little homesick,” you said quietly.

This seemed to pour some enthusiasm into him. “How come? You remember something?”

You shook your head. “Nah.” You were quiet for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts to explain what you felt. “I woke up thinking about my past life, and now I can’t shake it off.” Minho nodded, telling you he understood where you were coming from. You looked away, your eyes settling on the fire once more.

“You don’t have to feel isolated or lonely, or whatever,” he said, calling your attention back to him. “You have a family in here, whether you like it or not.”

Your lips curved upwards and you couldn’t resist poking some fun at the sentiment. “Ugh, you mean I’m related to _your_ shuck face?” Minho’s arm creeped around your shoulders, forcing you closer as he wore a devious smirk.

“Not by blood… Maybe by something else, though…” he trailed off suggestively. You scrunched up your nose in mock disgust. “Hey, you’ve never complained before,” he pointed out with a light chuckle.

“New day, new me. It’s always a good time to start making better decisions.” When you said this, you couldn’t help but grin at how appalled Minho looked.

“I am completely and irrevocably offended. I’m going to remember what you just said.”

“Uhuh.” You stretched up, planting a hand on his cheek. You saw him swallow uncertainly. You leaned forward, pressing your lips to his without response. “Have you forgotten yet?” you challenged. He shook his head no. You moved forward again, this time kissing him for longer, eliciting a small return. His nose bumped against yours as you felt his other arm enclose your waist. Your hands rested at the base of his neck, fumbling with the hair on his nape as your lips slid against his. Suddenly, you pulled away with a muffled laugh.

“Why’d you stop?” he whined.

“I started thinking about what you said… And it got incest-y.” You laughed once more when his mouth gaped open.

“You’re terrible,” he exclaimed, yanking you closer. His next actions caught you off guard; he kissed your forehead then linked his pinky and ring fingers with your own. With an abashed smile, you happily leaned your head against his shoulder, sinking into his embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos and reads! Please drop a comment if you have any requests!


	8. Minho - Fever

Last night you had gone to sleep worried about Minho. He had been looking a little pale but he brushed off your concern with a smirk and his usual wit. It wasn’t just you though, others had noticed that he seemed a bit off. However, this was Minho we were talking about; one of the most stubborn people in the Glade, so there was no winning.

Your fears were confirmed early the next morning. Minho was brought into the homestead after passing out before he was even able to get past the Maze doors. Thank god, you thought. There was no telling what would happen if he fainted out there; you may very well have never seen him again.

You strode into his room, ready to give him the ‘I told you so’ spiel, but he was still out cold. With a sigh, you slumped into a nearby chair and decided to wait. It was too early in the morning for the other boys to be in need of your assistance, so you were safe to hang around.

* * *

Minho woke up to an empty and eerily quiet room. He felt terrible, to say the least. He was drenched in sweat (more-so) than usual, and kind of nauseous. He kicked off his blankets but remained lying down, hoping someone would visit him soon.

His prayers were answered when you walked through the door, carrying a tray of food. He smiled eagerly, promptly jumping up. You set the food on the table and moved to the foot of his bed. Arms crossed, you stared down at Minho with a frown. There was a staring contest going on between you, until he was forced to give up. His complaints turned to coughing, which eventually dissolved to more groans.

“Told ya, shank.” He just moaned, shaking a hand in your direction dismissively. You smiled to yourself as Minho crawled underneath the covers and hid his top half with a pillow.

“It’s lunch time,” you announced, coming to sit on the bed beside him. You only heard him grumble from his cocoon. You tugged at the pillow, eventually wrestling it from his grasp. This didn’t stop him from making noises the whole time he rolled over to face you.

“I got jelly,” you told him. This seemed to catch his attention.

“Jelly? How?” Minho questioned suspiciously, sitting up. His skin was sallow and clammy.

“I dunno,” you shrugged. “Frypan gave it to me to give to you.” He eyed you shortly, then reached over to the table and scooped up the jelly cup. He began eating, zoning out as his eyes rested elsewhere.

At some point, Clint came into the room. He shuffled around for a bit. Finally, he came to Minho’s other side. Clint grabbed his arm, not waiting before sticking a needle into it.

“Hey! What are you doing?!” Minho cried, trying to rip his arm back but Clint was quicker, and ready. You put a hand on his shoulder to calm him.

“My job,” Clint said with a roll of his eyes. “It’s just some stuff to make you better, Minho,” he sighed. Boy, was this kid more paranoid and stubborn when he was sick. Once he was satisfied with what he’d done, he left the room to tend to his other patients.

You looked at Minho, who was already droopy lidded. “Hey, lie down,” you said softly, pushing him back onto the pillow. You pulled up the covers somewhat, resting your hands on it. He found your hands and his fingers fumbled with your own, dragging them closer to his chest.

“’m’sleepy,” he mumbled, looking up at you.

“Sleep then,” you smiled, pressing the palm of your hand to his forehead. Damn, he was hot. In all senses of the word.

“Stay,” he pleaded, trying to pull you closer.

“You know I can’t.”

“Please?”

You tried to take your hand back. “Alby’ll kick my ass.”

He gave an awkward half-shrug. “Good.”

You let out a laugh. “No, not good. Minho, I gotta go.”

He didn’t let go but his grip loosened as he heaved a sigh. “Fine. Leave me to die alone.”

“You’re not going to die, Minho,” you groaned.

“Feels like it,” he complained. Finally, your hand was free. He turned on his side, away from you. This caused your heart to ache.

“I’ll come back tonight,” you promised. You saw him twitch before lifting himself onto his elbows.

“You better,” he threatened. Minho lay back down, staring up at the ceiling. You turned to walk away but he interrupted your exit. It was slurred, but you caught it. “Love you. Bye.”

Your eyes widened significantly and you froze. Had he just? Oh god. You were _not_ going to get any work done this afternoon.

After mumbling a meek “bye” you left in an addled hurry.

* * *

“How is he?” you asked Jeff when you reentered the homestead.

“In and out of consciousness. Kind of messed up,” Jeff answered. “He’ll be fine, though. It’s just a fever.” You nodded and then moved past him to go to Minho’s room.

“Hey, baby,” Minho cooed as soon as you stepped in, “gimme a smooch.” You laughed.

“No way in hell, _baby_ ,” you retorted. “You been having fun?” you asked as you sat down.

“I should be out in the maze,” he claimed.

“You’re sick. So shut up, sleep, and enjoy the days off.”

“Mmm,” he hummed. “I like it when you’re mean.”

You turned away, hiding your smile. When you looked back, Minho had dozed off. You ran a hand through his abnormally unruly hair, thinking back to earlier. That is, until another hand snatched at your wrist.

“Got you,” Minho beamed.

“Got me,” you repeated quietly, lowering your hand into his control. Trying to mute your obvious affection wasn’t going to plan.

His other hand began tugging at your shirt. “Get in here,” he whispered. With an inward sigh, you climbed into the bed without pulling the covers up. You lay facing the ceiling, Minho looking over you. “Have I ever told you you’re beautiful? I should.”

You peeked at him, biting the inside of your cheek. You measured his loopy smile with vigilant eyes. “Yeah, you’re definitely delusional.”

More silence passed but you didn’t mind. Surprisingly, you hadn’t heard the light snores of Minho yet. But you yourself were beginning to tire. You turned on your side, eyes fluttering shut. You were almost asleep when an arm encircled your waist. He pulled you flush against his chest, resting his chin in the crook of your neck.

“You’re gonna get me sick,” you argued half-heartedly. Your heart was convulsing, in all honesty.

“Good,” he mumbled into your hair. “Then you can’t leave.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you snorted.

His muscly arms gave you a squeeze. And as if that wasn’t enough to drive you mad, he followed up with a husky reply that made you crush him right back: “Ridiculous enough to miss you.”


	9. Gally - Mystery Lacrosse Boy (Part 1) [AU]

It was your first day of college and you were anxiety ridden. The only thing that soothed your nerves was when you realised your best friend, Teresa, would be by your side. You sucked in a deep breath, slung your bag over your shoulder, and made your way out the front door and to her car, which was waiting at the curb.

“Ready?” she asked shrilly, once you’d settled into your chair.

You nodded. “As I’ll ever be.”

* * *

The day had gone well, believe it or not. You had met a lot of different people, but you seemed to have integrated a boy called Thomas into your small circle. Together, the three of you walked down to the sports field, where some other boys were practising lacrosse. You were really just passing by, curious about the campus, but before you could move on, a uniformed body barrelled into you.

You were sent sprawling, the boy following after. He quickly rolled off, sitting up.

“Ow!” you shouted, moving up onto your elbows so you could glare at the guy. Even in your temper, you couldn’t help but notice he was good looking.

“Careful, shank,” the mysterious boy said, beginning to stand up. You peered over your shoulder to see Teresa and Thomas standing there dumbfounded. You looked back to see a hand stuck far too close to your face. You accepted the offering, and he pulled you up easily.

“What was that for?” you snapped, snatching your hand from his grasp.

His mouth quirked. “Wouldn’t wanna ruin that pretty face of yours.”

Before you could reply, someone shouted, “Get ya klunk head back here, Gally!” The boy seemed to respond; he glanced over for a moment and then looked back at you for a final time. He then turned on his heel and jogged off back to centre field.

You spun around to face your friends. “What the hell?”

Teresa was first to speak. “He saved you!”

“What?” you asked, completely confused.

“The ball was coming right for you,” Thomas explained. “You okay?”

You nodded, slowly, comprehending the situation. You mumbled a simple “oh” before continuing on your initial path, linking your arm with Teresa’s as you went.

* * *

You returned to your dorm exhausted. You lay on your bed, staring at your phone. In a ‘what the hell, why not?’ type of moment, you clicked on the journal app you had installed long ago. It was filled with a few entries—nothing too special. With a sigh, you opened a new page.

_Dear diary,_

_I think I have a crush._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may write a part 2 to this, let me know what you think.  
> Update 7/02/2015: Part 2 uploaded!


	10. Newt - New Year's Eve [AU]

_One minute to go._

You looked around eagerly, inspecting the area you stood in. Your friends were scattered around you but squished within the crowd. Everyone was either chattering to each other, drinking, or looking up at the sky expectantly. Your eyes remained on the countdown. You were pretty buzzed and thoroughly enthusiastic about the night. You couldn’t wait to greet the New Year.

_Thirty seconds._

Your eyes dragged from the clock to your red beer cup and you took a sip. A sip turned into a few gulps, and eventually you hit the bottom of your drink. You shrugged; it wasn’t a bother, you could find more liquor soon enough.

You started bouncing on the heels of your feet excitedly.

That is, until you noticed how close your friends were; boys and girls combined. It looked like they were going for the midnight kiss, leaving you to feel a little left out.

_Five, four, three._

Your head whipped from side to side, desperately looking for someone. With a smile, you spotted a somewhat familiar head of blonde hair.

_Two, one._

Newt, a friend of a friend’s. He was cute and looking just as lonely as you, so you stepped up to him, and as the crowd chimed ‘happy new year!’ and the fireworks began, you pulled him in.

It wasn’t a long or particularly passionate kiss, and you pulled away giggling. Your arms were still thrown around his neck as he grinned down at you.

“Hi,” he chuckled.

“Hi yourself,” you laughed. He leaned down then, and you met his lips with the same vigour. You could hear encouraging woops and shouts coming from every angle but you tuned them out before realising you were missing the fireworks. You broke apart to breathe and then let go of Newt, your eyes moving to the lights display. You watched in awe.

Once they ended, Newt’s lips were at your ear, causing you to jump. “Wanna refill your cup?” he asked, shooting you the tiniest of smirks.

“Hell yeah,” you agreed, already pushing a path through the dispersing people. Oh, you might have also taken his hand hostage.


	12. Gally - New Year's Eve [AU]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5 pages in word, oops. Not proofread.  
> For jenniferwalters.

This year, you and your friends had decided to host a bon fire to toast to the New Year. The party was situated on a lesser known beach, so it was secluded enough that you would most likely not encounter anyone uninvited, but still able to see the fireworks once they started.

You arrived after the sun has set, so you were far from the first person there. From the carpark, you could see over the beach; a few people were scattered along the waterline, while others were decked out on the sand in chairs and blankets. You moved around to the boot of your car and got out your bag, dropping your sunglasses in there as you went.

“Hey,” came a voice, and you looked up to see Gally. You couldn’t help but notice he wore a tank that revealed his shapely biceps.

“Hey, Gal,” you greeted him with a smile. You looked back down, a frown forming. You had brought some food and drinks but you couldn’t take it all at once.

“Need some help?” he asked, moving closer. You nodded, and he picked up the cooler while you took the other two bags filled with stuff like chips. You closed your boot and stepped back. Gally was already making his way to the steps that led down the cliffside to the beach. You followed, making your steps quick so you could catch up.

“Did you just get here?” you questioned. He looked back over his shoulder, gracing you with a quick glance before his eyes turned downcast once more, watching the steps with caution.

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t bring anything,” you teased. By now, you’d reached the bottom of the steps, and his forehead creased.

“I’m letting whoever wants to to crash at my place afterwards,” he said. He looked confused for a moment, but you spoke before he could air his concern.

You almost smacked yourself upside the head—you looked like a complete idiot now. “Oh. I totally forgot you live nearby.”

He gave a short laugh as you two walked towards the biggest group. He dumped the cooler on the sand and then turned back to help you. You had ungracefully tangled your fingers into the many different straps. You supposed he had seen. Gally gingerly took your hands in his and began untying them, and you just watched him with an expression that was something relative to awe. He glanced up at one point but was swift to look back down.

Alright—you shook yourself back to reality. There was no need to fawn over the hot guy who was handling you like precious cargo. (Woops.)

“Thanks for everything,” you smiled earnestly. He gave you a nod and you saw him look towards the water, probably searching for someone. You took that as your cue to leave.

* * *

“I hate you so much,” you sighed, looking down at your shirt. You’d just been sprayed in alcohol, and it stank. “Are you laughing? Teresa, stop laughing!” She did the complete opposite of your words, so you were left to sink into your chair and glower. “This is _so_ not funny…”

She smiled widely, giving your shoulder a couple of pokes. “It kind of is.”

“You ruined my top,” you said simply, still glaring.

“Take it off.”

“Didn’t know you felt that way, T,” you jeered, your lips quirking.

Gally, who was now towering over the two of you, interrupted. “Don’t you have a boyfriend, Teresa?”

She glanced up, a shrug rolling over her. “You haven’t seen us behind closed doors. You can’t stop that kind of chemistry…”

Gally had provided the perfect distraction so you took the chance to lean over and knock the drink from her hand, causing it to splash all over. Teresa jumped up, shaking off the liquid as she went.

“You—You—”

“Are a perfect, beautiful angel whose heart of gold you trampled, while you are a disgusting little gremlin who got what she deserve?” you offered, shooting her an innocent smile. She let out a sarcastic laugh before throwing her arms in the air in exasperation.

“Now I need a new drink.”

“Shoo,” you waved a hand at her. She flipped you off, then turned on her heel.

“Disgusting little gremlin?” Gally repeated with a snort, taking Teresa’s chair. You smiled proudly, crossing your arms. “So,” he said, settling into his seat, “you having a good time?”

“I was up until I got covered in beer,” you said with a roll of your eyes.

“Well, you always _could_ take Teresa’s advice,” he joked.

You gave a moan. “You are all terrible.”

“Finally, the credit I deserve.” You laughed. “Hey, you wanna play some beer pong?”

You sat up. “What the hell? They didn’t lug down a table, did they?”

“Nah, it’s makeshift. Courtesy of Minho,” Gally shrugged. You were about to accept the offer but Teresa’s shout cut you off.

“Hey, get over here!” You looked between her and Gally, and then sighed, lifting yourself from the chair.

“Raincheck?” you asked, sending him your best apologetic look.

“Yeah, sure.” (He didn’t look so sure.)

* * *

After you escaped Teresa forcing you to gawk at a jellyfish washed ashore, you eventually made your way to where the beer pong was set up. You could see a couple of games already going on. Before you could take another step, Minho was tugging on your sleeve.

“You’re on my team,” he stated, not letting go as he stalked away. You glanced around quickly, hoping to spot Gally. When you did, you called his name. You met his eyes, and then he looked away, tapping someone on the shoulder. The two boys jogged up. You realised it was Ben.

“Teams?” Ben asked.

“She’s on mine,” Minho grinned, slinging an arm around your shoulder. “We’re gonna drink you under the metaphorical table.”

“Not a chance in hell,” Ben replied, and Gally simultaneously said, “We’re playing with my stuff, shank.” You could see their competitiveness in the grins they bared.

“Quit stalling, then,” you smirked, picking up a ball.

 

 

A little while later, half of Ben and Gally’s cups were empty, while a little less of your’s and Minho’s were. Your team was winning so far.

Abruptly, Ben scrambled to his feet, apparently seeing someone he recognised. The three of you watched him run off.

You reached out and took one of your cups, about to take a sip before Minho slapped your arm.

“Don’t do that!” Minho exclaimed.

You rolled your eyes. “Fine. I’ll be back, you big baby.” You got to your feet to set off for a drink, until you were intercepted by Gally.

“Whoa,” you laughed, almost stumbling into him. He caught you with ease.

“Can we talk?” he asked suddenly.

“Oh, sure,” you answered slowly, a little unsure of why he sounded so serious. Before you two could take another step, Minho and Ben were yelling.

“Get back here! We have a game to win!”

You pouted sullenly, eying his golden-flecked gaze. (Damn it.) “You wasted my chance.”

* * *

Gally and Ben had ended up winning, which had majorly wounded Minho’s ego, sending him into battle mode. He was challenging as many people as you could to play beer pong, even when most declined in favour of the oncoming fireworks display.

You were a step away from drunk after the game, leading you to wander along the beach with a fluttery smile. You had ditched your shoes a while ago, somewhere. That was a problem for another time, you decided. Your head whipped up when you heard approaching footsteps.

“Hey, Galldog!” You snickered to yourself. “Oh God, did I really just say that?”

“People aren’t going to start calling me that, are they?” he asked with wide eyes.

“Naw,” you laughed. “I might, though. Accidentally.”

“Then I might accidentally do this,” he sighed, taking hold of your hands and walking backwards, into the ocean. You were given little choice as you stumbled with him, eventually falling to your knees.

“I’m all wet.” Your nose scrunched. You held up a finger, directly in front of his face. “Don’t you dare.” He smirked, bumping his calf against your knee. He presented you his hand, and when you accepted, he hauled you to your feet. “Hey, didn’t you wan—wanna talk?”

Your words sent a flood of recognition over his features. “Uh, yeah. I—”

You never got to finish because you pushed him over then, sending him sprawling into an approaching wave. He was chuckling, you could hear him among the rushing sound that surrounded you. “Deserved that,” you thought you heard him say.

“Now you’re really Captain Gally of the Seven Seas,” you giggled, reminding him of the old nickname.

“And you’re about to be the first mate,” he returned just as quick. Then your footing was ripped out from beneath you, and a wave crashed over you. Your head poked through the water, laughing just as hard as Gally was. You splashed at him. You were waist level now but you remained floating. Your hair felt heavy on your head, and you pushed it out of your eyes. Suddenly, Gally was there, helping you, putting a few strands behind your ear. His hands were creeping around and up you. Eventually they came to rest on your cheeks.

He was so close, closer than all the other times that day. Your eyes flickered to his lips, so near yours. Your gaze tilted back up. “What’re you doing?” you whispered, trying to avoid the water as you bobbed up and down calmly.

“Doing my duty as a captain,” he replied. He was still moving closer.

“Oh, so you’d fight a shark for me?”

“Yeah. Maybe even a Kraken.”

“What about a possum?”

“What?”

“I hear they’re pretty deadly.”

He shook his head. “Possums aren’t part of my division.”

“Gally?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you gonna kiss me?”

He smirked. “I might.”

You realised your nerves were a little frayed upon hearing him say it. And when he finally pressed his lips to yours, more tenderly than you could have imagined, you were fine—good, brilliant—the best you’d ever been. (He was too, judging by the way he smiled against your mouth most ardently.)


	13. Newt - 4th July [AU]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the hits!  
> Requested by MrsAlyssaSangster.

“A little more to the left…”

Newt moved rigidly, trying his best not to knock into anything or fall over. He was wearing a blindfold as you’d coaxed him into playing ‘pin the tail on the donkey’.

“Oh, now you’re going in the wrong direction,” you teased. He turned around, heeding your words. He took a few steps forward, but you knew he was mostly waiting on you to tell him where he was meant to be going. “Hm, yeah. You’re close.”

He felt weird, not able to see or feel anything but empty space. “If you make me walk into a wall…” he warned.

“Yadda, yadda, you’ll take my Captain Crunch away, I got it,” you mocked. “C’mon, a few more steps.” He continued on, taking three, to be exact, and then he stopped. Right in front of you. You smirked to yourself and stood up. Newt reached out with a wobbly arm. He bumped your shoulder and you saw his forehead crease in confusion before he seemed to figure it out. You didn’t give him a chance to take off the blindfold as you hastily advanced on him, leaning up to kiss him. You felt him smile; his palms came to rest on your cheeks. Then he pulled away.

“I should’ve realised. It’s oddly quiet for a room supposedly full of kids,” he laughed. “I know why you wanted to play, though.”

“Oh?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” he said, pinning the tail onto you, “’Cos you’re an ass.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at that, but you still tapped his chest disapprovingly.

“You hungry?” he questioned. You felt his hands drop from your face, although not before the tips of his fingers grazed against your skin playfully. You gave a nod. His arm crept around your waist and he shot you an easy smile. “Come on then.”

* * *

You sat under the shade of a tree at a table with some of your relatives and close friends. Newt, who sat beside you, was munching away at his plate of food, while sometimes talking to Minho and Alby. You, on the other hand, were chatting with your aunt, Teresa, and some of her family. You were all tightly packed into the area, enjoying the day with a barbecue.

You suddenly felt something poke your side, dragging your attention to Newt. You looked up at him, your brows high.

“You got a little…” he trailed off, trying not to smile. He brought a thumb to the edge of your mouth, swiping away what you figured was tomato sauce.

“Oh. Thanks,” you replied, and your eyes flitted to his lips. He cleared his throat.

“Up here, missy.”

“I was just checking,” you drawled. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw some movement. You turned towards it. Minho, who had Teresa in his lap, was beaming straight at the two of you, making gestures probably aimed more at Newt.

He followed your line of sight, staring down Minho. The two seemed to be having a wordless conversation. Then, he looked back at you, bringing his lips to melt against yours without hesitation. You heard a snort come from not too far away but you ignored it. However, you did realise were you were; surrounded by family, majorly kids, and it probably wasn’t the appropriate time. You pulled away, your attention immediately settling on Minho and Teresa. Oh—they were making out, big time, with arms everywhere.

“You were goading him on,” you grumbled.

“Aye, you weren’t keeping your eyes anywhere respectable,” he defended. You let out a defeated sigh. He leaned down, resting his chin in the crook of your neck. You sighed again. “Finally, I guess.”

You felt him smile against your skin, sending you into a slight shiver. He kissed your neck blithely; it was innocent and soothing, nothing close to how the couple across from you was acting. “Happy Fourth of July,” he breathed merrily. You repeated those words back to him as you looked over the group affectionately. After shoving a fry into your mouth—which you had stolen from his plate—you run your other hand through his already messy hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made this one a little longer; hope you Newt lovers are happy aha. I’ve been getting quite a few requests for Newt imagines, which I should have definitely expected lmao (I have been attempting to keep the imagines fairly equal). My inspiration is kind of sporadic, y’know, but I’m trying my best, don’t worry. Bye now!


	14. Newt - Street Crawlers [AU]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is quite dark in comparison to my other imagines. You’ve been warned ;).

_Newt is pine needles and sweat and grime. You’ll admit, it’s not the best of combinations, but something about Newt makes him irresistible. Maybe it’s the rush you feel every time you’re around him. He has this carefree attitude, though there’s a need for control underneath it all. At least when he’s creating chaos, it’s his mess; his rules. And late at night, when you’re alone, you’ll admit it to yourself: you’re probably just another character in his self-destructive story. Of course, you’d never broach the subject with him directly. No, you don’t work like that. Besides, what does it matter, if you’re getting your fix?_

* * *

“Oh, Christ,” he muttered at one point, but when you threw him a look, he shrugged it off.

You’re running from the police. You two broke into a store on a dare; you hadn’t even taken anything but the authorities didn’t know that, which led to this particular chase. You ran down shadowed lanes in an attempt to escape, laughing the whole way. Your adrenaline was racing and you knew, in the back of your mind, it would be serious if you were caught.

You could hear the distant wailing sirens over your maniacal laughter, but you didn’t care—and all you can think was _why won’t you care?_

And then you hit a padlocked fence. Newt dropped to the ground, one knee up, already trying to hoist you up and over. Perhaps, if there were more time, you might have thought about the choice he made—allowing you to go first. But you don’t, so you climbed, and you heard him wince. You didn’t ignore it that time. You made it over the fence; he had scaled it too. You see it—the red blossoming against his white tee. He’s bleeding.

“Newt?” You struggled to get out his name.

“Not now,” he muttered, urging you to keep going. You stumbled a few steps, your hand still caught in his shirt. He decided to lead the way, keeping a firm grip on your arm as you half-jogged through the silent street. There is no laughing now: you’re terrified.

You two had made it halfway to your hideout when he fell to his knees, panting. You dropped immediately, your worried hands already going to work.

“Newt,” you tried again.

“Yeah?” he choked out, hauling himself towards the nearest wall. His hand was pressed to his side.

You wasted no time in getting to the point. Your voice was urgent, “You need help.”

“Probably,” Newt laughed, but it was a harsh, bitter sound. Realising he wasn’t going to do anything, you fumbled through your pockets in search of your phone. Your hands were trembling pretty violently when you managed to bring the receiver to your ear. With an unsteady voice, you spoke to the woman on the line, informing her that you needed an ambulance straightaway. Once she had the details, you didn’t bother staying on the line. You left your phone to clatter to the ground and scrambled closer to Newt.

His eyelids were drooping. You latched on his arms, shaking him. He shrugged you off with a groan, but his eyes opened, at least.

“D-Don’t scare me like that,” you stammered. You wiped at your eyes angrily. He glanced at you, his mouth lifting.

“Don’t cry, ducky,” he murmured, and his jittery hand found yours. He gave it a squeeze, sighing as he leaned back against the wall. Although he held your hand, you could feel him ebbing away.

“Newt—Newt, please don’t die,” you pleaded, giving him another push. “Stay awake, please.”

“It doesn’t hurt like I thought it would,” he croaked, his eyes falling shut again. Your voice cracked as you choked out his name. You could hear him, heaving a breath every so often—he was still there. His lips moved, but no words were formed, and then he managed to utter the one thing you’d always wanted to hear. “I love you, y’know.”

“Then don’t you shucking die!” you spluttered sternly, smacking at your cheeks as tears burned trails against your skin. His eyes fluttered open then, although it didn’t seem like he saw you, not really. He coughed; one, twice, and you saw more blood, red against his chapped lips.

Maybe it was some kind of epiphany he had while dying, or maybe some unearthly voice had told him of his future, but he was suddenly crying, and he sounded so vulnerable when he said it: “I don’t wanna die.”

And just like that, the world played favourites again: you did not dare release him as the prompt sirens neared.


	15. Newt - Rebuilt

It had started as a day like any other; everyone in the Glade got up, ate, did their jobs, rinse and repeat. That is, until some of the boys alerted the group that the doors hadn’t closed yet, far past the time they should have. Now, that was worrying—and it was no longer a normal day.

It didn’t take long for everyone to spread out, small crowds assembling at each door, peering into the darkness. The maze lowly growled; a muffled, crunching sound, seemingly far off.

Suddenly, shrieking from the other side of the Glade startled you. You turned around to see a few of the Gladers tearing through the trees, shouting inaudible slurs as they bolted towards the inner field. You were confused. Looking over your friends, you saw that a couple had glanced over at the fleeing boys too, their faces shrouded in unease.

Then, Newt’s fingers latched onto your wrist. You turned around on the spot, briefly eying him before looking up. No, the maze wasn’t closing: it was as open as ever and there was something moving.

“What the hell is that?” you heard someone ask. Your blood ran cold as you heard the all too familiar clacking and whirring. Grievers—there were grievers, very quickly clambering into view, towards the doors. It clicked in your mind at that moment, what the other boys must have been running from; you were about to face them too.

The grievers kept coming at a speedy pace, and as they left the confinements of the shadows, many more were unveiled. Thomas sharply interrupted the fearful staring, shouting orders to ‘run and hide in the deadheads’. And just like that, Newt’s steel grasp was yanking you back, away from the horrible creatures. You almost tumbled to the grass, though you caught yourself at the last second. You regained your footing and picked up your stride, following the others towards the homestead.

* * *

After Gally knocked Thomas out, the others were left to survey the damage. They had lost a few Gladers, including Alby. Admitting that to yourself only made your heart hurt. You turned to Newt and you could see it was tearing him up that his best friend had just given himself up for them. You stumbled a few steps closer, putting your hand on his arm in what you hoped was a comforting manner. You hadn’t realised till now, but you were shaking. Newt took notice as you touched him.

Your legs gave out from beneath you and you fell to the ground. Newt was quick to follow. He pulled your trembling form into his lap, wrapping his arms around your middle as he rested his forehead against your shoulder. You could feel him heaving against your back as silent sobs racked through him.

It was hard to comfort someone when you yourself were petrified. However, that didn’t stop you from trying. Your words were quiet and mostly stutters, but you told him it would be okay, several times over, all while fumbling with his fingers fretfully.

Eventually he stopped crying. He was motionless, still with his head down, but you heard him. “No, it’s not,” he mumbled. You sighed deeply.

“It will be.” And you believed that—one day, it would be okay, even if it wasn’t right this minute.

Slowly, Newt lifted his head. You peeked over your shoulder at him. There was renewed fortitude in his eyes. You smiled at him faintly, a gesture he returned. It seemed, that perhaps, he believed it too, and that was enough for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m having a bit of writer’s block at the moment, so I want to work on smaller ideas like these. If you have any to suggest, please do drop a comment!


	16. Minho - Nightmare

Very quickly, your dream shifted from innocent to disastrous. One moment, you were prancing around with the other Gladers, enjoying the night, before it turned sour, and all sorts of creatures crawled out of the depths of hell—the maze—and began wreaking havoc. You watched Minho be pulled from your grasp, a shocked yelp escaping him as he was flung across the grassy field. What you assumed was a griever trampled over him, but you didn’t get to look for long as you felt your side being pierced. You turned to face the monster. You only got a peek as it leaped at you, the last thing you heard being Minho’s shout.

You woke up with a scream, clumsily disentangling yourself from Minho’s usually-comforting embrace. You sat up straight, panting with clammy skin. Minho popped up beside you, hands immediately ghosting over your trembling form in concern. He soon realised there wasn’t an active threat and breathed deeply.

“Hey,” he quipped, trying to grab your attention. You were staring into the darkness, still, with eyes glazed over and unblinking. He shook you and you slowly dragged your eyes to rest on him. “Nightmare?” he asked, rubbing your shoulder soothingly. You nodded, swiping away a lone tear on your cheek.

“Can we lie down?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. He gave you a curt nod and then fluffed the pillow, falling back into it with open arms. You lay down apprehensively. Minho pulled you closer. You turned on your side, resting your head on his chest, wrapping an arm around him. He hugged you as best as he could, letting his chin sit on the crown of your head. Every time he breathed, you could feel the air tickling your hair.

“You haven’t had nightmares since you got here,” he started softly. You didn’t say anything and instead dug your cheek deeper into his shirt. “What was it about?” he tried again. Your eyes squeezed shut and immediately the dream replayed; you could see every brutal second. But what hurt you most was hearing Minho sounding so vulnerable and helpless.

“Monsters,” you said eventually, very quietly.

“Should I check under the bed?”

You let out a short, croaky laugh. You shook your head no. You sighed shakily, your arms tightening. “I lost you.”

“That would be a nightmare,” he teased, to which you gave a small, unseen smile.

You played along. “Uhuh. It was terrible.” The joking was helping to ease your fear, which you were grateful for.

You lay in silence for a few more minutes before Minho broke the silence.

“You good?” You took a moment to maul it over, and then nodded into his chest. “Good.”

After that, you knew he had drifted off, but you weren’t bothered. You didn’t want to sleep just yet, and you were content to listen to Minho’s breathing; a comforting, low hum.


	17. Gally - SSA Galileo [AU]

It had always been a cat and mouse game between the two of you, with no distinct winner. However, this time, it seemed you had been bested.

“Howdy, detective,” you drawled as you were shoved against a wall (in a manner entirely different from usual) with your hands forced behind your back. You felt the cold steel of the handcuffs clipped onto your wrists immediately. They were locked quickly, and then the pressure against you lessened, though not by much.

“You’re under arrest for ordering the murders of Jackson Bloom, Heidi Parker…” His partner droned on and you tuned him out as he read your Miranda Rights. You looked over your shoulder, your eyes landing on Agent Gally. You threw him a taunting smirk.

Yeah, getting involved with a cop was always a bad idea; an FBI agent though—that was worse. But you didn’t like to play things safe.

Gally, with the other man distracted, shot you a small, tight-lipped smirk straight back. You weren’t able to savour it, as it fell almost immediately as it appeared, and then you were being hauled out your front door.

There were policeman lined up and down the street, a few of them with their hands poised on their weapons as their eyes trailed after you. You almost had the chance to bask in the glory, until you were forced head first into a dark car. You struggled upright and quickly observed what was going on. Gally and his partner exchanged a few words outside. He made for another cluster of cops while Gally got into the driver’s seat.

You leaned forward, resting your head against the divider with a pout. Gally swivelled to face you.

“Oh Agent, how I wish it was you who’d pushed me up against that wall,” you whined indignantly. His lips quirked just a bit, in that way you knew he was considering it.

“I might just oblige you.”

You let out a breathy laugh, falling back into the padded seat; it never ceased to amuse you how he always could say things like that with a straight face.

Your eyes settled on Gally’s through the mirror as his partner clambered into the car. He looked back at you and you just smiled brightly, earning a scoff. Gally, however, seemed to enjoy the display.

“Hey, detective,” you chimed, using the pet name again. “Think we can grab some chum along the way? I’m starving.”

“You’re being brought in on murder charges and you’re worried about _food?_ ” His nameless partner asked in disbelief.

“C’mon, D. You know how prison food is. It’ll make her arrest that much sweeter,” Gally coaxed.

As it goes, you both knew you were never gonna end up in that prison cell. It wasn’t much your style. Meeting his twinkling eyes in the mirror again, you decided your luck was all but naught just yet.


	18. Gally - Nightmare

During the day, Gally was strict and rough around the edges, but as night fell and those doors inched shut, he loosened up. He willingly played games, stomached his stubbornness, and engaged in typical teenage behaviour. You liked Gally for most of his snarky decisions, and even when you couldn’t agree with them, you understood his perspective. Gally stood for order and normalcy, something you were happy to have, having been thrown into the Glade. Between Alby rules and Gally’s blunt determination, you felt safe. Well, for the most part. While Gally shook off his grumpy exterior at dusk, you took on a more frightful interior as the first star twinkled in the dark sky.

It was no surprise when you woke up shaking and crying and completely out of it. Your hands scraped against skin and cloth wildly, searching for something tangible; some sort of anchor.

Gally jolted awake, his callous, ready-to-pounce grip already on your wrist. You were seated upright, staring unseeingly into the blackness as shivers racked your body. After realising the lack of physical danger, Gally shifted, careful eyes landing on you. You felt his arms slither around your waist, pulling you closer.

Still, you shook, wild breaths leaving your mouth in short gasps. You briefly glanced at Gally, and you saw the crease between his brows; worry.

You could barely remember what the dream had been about, but it didn’t matter, it had clawed itself into your very core. You still felt like the poison soaked and gnawed at your skin.

“I’m…I’m—okay,” you stuttered eventually, focus still on empty space. Gally gave you a reassuring squeeze. Trying to regain whatever dignity you had left, you lay your head on his shoulder numbly. Then, you could feel yourself moving backwards, towards the pillows, against his chest.

Gally began to talk, quite amicably; something that would be considered unusual outside the realm of night time. You made out a few things; some of the builders being ‘slintheads’—what he hoped Frypan cooked in the upcoming days. You were grateful that he didn’t ask you about it, and instead, calmed you down and provided a welcome distraction.

You buried your nose against his jaw, humming a few agreements here and there. And when his skin raised with goosebumps, you smiled to yourself—just a bit.

Who would have thought the boy with a sandpaper personality made for an intuitive bedfellow?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First and foremost, I’d like to apologize for the lack of updates. Maybe you noticed, maybe you didn’t; either way, it felt weird to go from posting every other day to nothing for two weeks. Honestly, I didn’t feel like writing, and instead branched out into a few other hobbies. I’m coming back around though. In two days, I start a new year at school—my senior year—so I’m expecting things will get quite busy. I’m not sure how it will affect my updating. Just something I wanted to let you guys know about!  
> Next on the agenda: I wanted to talk about one of the reasons why I decided to start writing imagines/oneshots. I read quite a few of them beforehand, and one thing I noticed was that authors and readers very eagerly romanticised an abusive relationship/dynamic, particularly with Gally’s character. While these things can be interesting to write about, I definitely do not like how this behaviour is encouraged as healthy or okay to an influential audience. Just something to keep in mind.  
> Thanks for reading—till next time!


	19. Gally - Mystery Lacrosse Boy (Part 2) [AU]

Day two, and you weren’t nearly as half as nervous as yesterday. The cause, you decided, was most likely due to your late night confession. That mysterious lacrosse player with the hard golden eyes was stuck in your head. You almost hoped to see his smug, albeit undeniably cute, lopsided smirk again.

A voice pulled you out of your concentrated state. “Hey, I know you.” You turned to your left to see a burly, dark-skinned male. Your eyebrows knitted, confused. You could not remember meeting him previously.

“You do?”

“Yeah. You’re the one Gally knocked over,” he elaborated.

You gave a brief nod, and murmured an “oh”. Your eyes drifted back to the teacher, although you were no longer paying attention to the class. After a moment, you turned back. “Who’re you?”

“Alby,” he answered with a fleeting smile. His eyes then shifted past you and landed on Thomas, who was a seat over from you. “Hey, new kid,” he called, though not loud enough to call on the irritation of the teacher. Both Thomas and Teresa looked over.

“Yeah…?” Thomas asked unsurely.

“You should come try out for the lacrosse team. We need some more guys. You look like a good fit.”

“Uh…” Thomas looked a little taken aback, but gave a curt nod. “Yeah, alright. When?”

Alby nodded to himself, obviously satisfied. “This afternoon, the lower oval.” And just like that, his attention was on you again. It didn’t matter anyway; Teresa had leaned into Thomas, probably teasing him already.

“So you’re _not_ a ‘new kid’?” you questioned hesitantly.

“I’m no Greenie,” he confirmed, sliding down his chair a little. “I’ve been here a couple of years.” Alby looked at you, shooting you another half-smirk. If he was going to say anymore, it was interrupted by a boy in the row in front of you. He turned around, a smile plastered onto his face.

“Aye, Alby. Leave the girl alone,” he chided.

Alby kicked his friend’s seat. “Shut ya pie hole.”

* * *

You had spent an hour on the benches with Teresa and Newt as you watched Thomas try out for the team. You could pick him out among the crowd, as well as Alby, and Gally. Your eyes followed him more than once.

As practice came to an end, most of the boys picked their way off of the field, grabbing their belongings on the path to the change room. Newt hopped up, sauntering after a couple of the team members.

Teresa sighed from beside you, and you focused on whatever she was looking at. Thomas, sprawled across the grass.

“Go and help him,” you laughed, giving her shoulder a shove. She rolled her eyes but listened, taking his bag as she left.

Your view of the two scuffling on the field was interrupted. Gally staggered past you, falling onto the bench with a groan. He soon recovered, pulling a drink bottle from his sports bag. Before he drained it all, he splashed some of it back into his face. You watched wordlessly, until you felt the water hit you as he shook his head like a dog. You shuffled back a bit, wiping your cheeks clear of the moisture.

“Seriously?” you asked.

“What?” he replied, turning to you with an impassive face.

“Well first you knock me over, and now you…”

“Now I?” Gally questioned, eyebrows raised.

_‘Now you’re getting me wet.’_ You shook your head slowly. No, you wouldn’t say that out loud. “Nothing.” An awkward silence ensued. Eventually, you blurted out, “so, do you make it a habit to be annoying?”

He looked you over with that blank expression again. “No.” For a moment, you felt bad, but then he continued. “—It’s a natural gift.”

You laughed at that. Gally looked down, but you noticed the edge of his mouth was lifted. He peeked at you for a short second, then grabbed his drink bottle and bag and jumped up. His back was turned to you, frozen, as if he were mulling over his next course of actions.

Eventually, he spun around. “Come to a game,” Gally said, watching you. Surprisingly, it wasn’t half as demanding as the words would sound on paper. You avoided his eyes, focusing on Teresa and Thomas instead, who were fast approaching. Had he seen them?

“What’s going on here?” Thomas chimed, coming to your side.

“I told her the pound is down the road. You know, the place where they put lost dogs,” Gally drawled, making his point by staring at Thomas. You narrowed your eyes at Gally.

“He asked me to come to a lacrosse game, but I’m busy whenever that is.” You could see a faint red flushing over his skin, although you just crossed your arms in defiance.

“Oh no you’re not!” Teresa said sternly, latching onto your arm. “ _We_ are _going_.” You clicked your tongue at her, but quickly looked between Thomas and Gally.

“Maybe you two can go together.”

Thomas looked downright appalled and Gally snorted. Pleased with the reaction, you pulled Teresa after you and wandered off towards the cafeteria, leaving the two boys to bicker.

* * *

_Dear diary,_

_I have a crush on a beautiful, rude, shy—did I mention beautiful?—nuisance._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lemme know about a part 3!


	20. Newt - Almost The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, I've been completely AWOL. I have been working on this for close to two months, very on and off. I've had a lot of homework, and then when I didn't, I was spending time doing other stuff. Sorry. I made this kind of longer, I hope it makes up for the lack of updates, lmao.
> 
> Also, thanks for the comments! Much appreciated!

It was late, and you were already worried, but nothing could ever prepare you for the dread you’d feel at seeing two of the runners dragging Newt’s crumpled body through the rumbling gate walls. Your heart banged against your rib cage once, twice—and then you swore it stopped altogether. You felt cold, and numb, and you were frozen to the grassy ground as the boys rushed past you, most probably heading for the homestead.

You knew Newt was having a rough time lately, but you’d never thought it would come to this end. You never wanted to think that he would die at the hands of the glade (or rather, by his choice—but that was a discovery for later).

The howling of the maze is what roused your focus once more. A strong wind blew over you, and you finally turned around, albeit slowly and unsurely, and staggered towards Newt; _your_ Newt—the boy with the hair like a glowing halo, who now lay half-dead.

* * *

Your steps were clumsy, though you stayed mostly upright during your venture to the homestead. You raced up the stairs, almost tripping twice, but made it to the doorframe where they were keeping him. There was no chance for you to go any further, however, as you slammed into a heavyset chest, sending you tumbling to the floor. God damn, that hurt—(but you couldn’t feel much over the pain and fear and worry in your chest).

“Newt,” you whispered aimlessly, scrambling to your feet and barely looking at the assailant. You tried to get through to the boy, to no avail. You were knocked back again. You couldn’t hear whatever they had just said. Your ears—everything sounded muffled, like what you supposed would be the effect of being underwater. The only thing you could think of was: _Newt, Newt, Newt._ A steady mantra.

“Let me in. Let me see him,” you babbled, trying again. Your eyes flickered over the male: it was Minho, and behind him, Alby. “Let me…” You tried once more, but you were cut off by the words dying in your throat. Silent, hot, and salty tears streamed down your cheeks, unnoticed till now.

You tried to catch a glimpse of the blonde haired boy who—Creator’s be damned—you loved wholly. “I want—Newt—See him,” you choked out, not bothering to swipe your wet cheeks. You felt something resembling arms wrap about your shorter frame, and you fell into the embrace, still mumbling his name.

* * *

Bloody, broken, and snoring is how you first saw him. Jeff had told you he wasn’t responding; he hadn’t woken up since the accident. You sat by him when you could, murmuring soft words, praying he would be alright. You couldn’t lose him. Not Newt.

* * *

The next day, he apparently woke, although all your shouting would do nothing to budge the boys from your path. It seemed a repeat of the night they brought him in. So you sat glumly and waited for more news.

* * *

Alby had sighed long and deep before telling you. “He tried to kill himself.”

Your face completely paled. You didn’t want to believe it, and your head shook, which soon reverberated through your hands; although, deep down, you knew it was true. You didn’t ask anymore questions—only got up and wandered the Glade numbly.

_God damn,_ you thought, _you hated him_.

* * *

When you finally entered Newt’s room, he was bundled in blankets, head tucked into a pillow, leg resting atop. His ankle was mangled and you suppressed a cringe. The blonde haired boy hadn’t wanted you to come; you hadn’t wanted to come; but Minho eventually talked you into it. You were upset Newt could ever do such a thing, even if that was a selfish thing to hate him for.

You sat down on a chair near the edge of his bed and pulled your knees to your chest. Your head lolled to the side as you rested it upon them. You eyes travelled from Newt, to his leg, to his room. The atmosphere finally felt as bleak as he did.

No one talked.

* * *

It took him a few days before he finally sat up and looked you in the eye—(so far it had only been passing glances as he longed to hear your sweet voice).

You were lost in your thoughts when Newt spoke your name softly, pulling you from your reverie. You weren’t sure if it was real: he was actually talking. You rubbed your eyes and looked back at him. He beckoned you closer. You stiffened instinctually and stayed put. His shoulders gave a defeated roll, but his glassy eyes never wavered. Your heart just pounded in your ears loudly—

(I love you. I love you. Why did you do that?)—

“Yeah?”

The response was just as gentle as his own words had been. His mouth quirked for the briefest of moments.

(Ah, shit.)

“I—sorry,” Newt muttered, now looking away. “I’m sorry.”

You bit your lip and looked down, wounds fresh, though obviously much fresher and brutal for him.

“If…I lost you…” You said slowly, and it seemed almost foreign in your mouth. You were trying not to cry. “I think… Newt, please—” Your voice cracked entirely then, and you choked back a sob. “Don’t leave—me.” You knew how incredibly selfish it was to say a thing like that, but at that moment you couldn’t bring yourself to care enough.

Newt swallowed, a very visible display of guilt. A hand dragged through his roots and then dropped. His eyes met yours again, but the agitation didn’t melt. The room wasn’t as depressed as usual; no, it was far worse—tension filled the space between you, but your strangled sobs were almost enough to cover it.

* * *

You fell asleep in the room one night, and surprisingly, no one kicked you out. You curled up in the chair, limbs uncomfortably draped onto the bed. Newt watched you from his half-seated position. Eyes soft and watchful, they lay on your sleeping form. He had been avoiding thinking since he awoke in the homestead. Thinking meant coping properly. He wasn’t ready for that yet. But the sight of you eased him from his discomfort, a small distraction from the pain of his gnarled ankle.

You let out a soft hum as you fidgeted. Newt watched on with a faint smile. Gradually, he inched his hand towards your own. When his fingertips had crawled the path to your hand, he gently clasped it. He began to draw sloppy shapes against the skin with his thumb, eventually lapsing into a thoughtful silence.

(You love me. You love me not. You—)

Another sleepy sigh from your end. Newt’s eyes rolled upwards, cautiously checking you over.

(If you do, open your eyes.)

You rolled over as well as you could in the blanket-riddled chair, tugging Newt’s hand as you went. His smile returned.

It was a few more minutes before your eyes began to flutter, and with a muffled groan, you startled into consciousness. Newt’s smile grew wide.

“Hey you,” he couldn’t help but greet sheepishly.

“Weh… Hi,” you mumbled, still dazed.

He pat the space next to him on the bed suddenly. “C’mon,” he urged, pulling at your arm. You sighed but nonetheless crawled into the cot. You rest your head against his side as his arm settled around you.

“You what?”

“What?” he asked, taken aback.

You peeked up at him. “Before, you said something. ‘Me not. You’.”

A sigh rumbled through him. He spoke quietly. “You love me not.” You stilled beside him, and for a moment, he was relieved to think you had dozed off.

“Daydreaming ‘bout Alby again?” you slurred.

Newt ran a crooked finger against your cheekbone. “Nuh. ‘Bout you.”

This time, you breathed deeply. “Why’d you do it?”

Newt glanced away from your suddenly intent gaze.

“Hey, Newt?” you whispered, “What’s it mean if I open my eyes?”

His wary stare resettled on your slouched form, trying to form a response. At some point, your lips turned upwards, melding into a smirk, and he sighed exasperatedly. “Y’know.”

“I do?”

“Mm, yeah.”

“Remind me?”

“Not now.”

“When?”

“One day.”

You shook your head, pressing your body closer to his. You laid your lips against his neck, breathing lightly. You felt him shiver, right down to the very bone.

“Fine, a’ight. You opened your eyes, ‘you love me’,” Newt muttered.

“Mm, nah,” you answered with a cheeky smile.

“You can’t argue with that,” he chided.

“I just did. Case closed. Good night.”

He attempted to hide the smile with the draw of his brows. The arm wrapped loosely around you gave you a warm squeeze, and he sighed against your forehead. “Night, birdie.” Even when the tension returned tomorrow, deep down, things would be alright. The little exchange had proven that.


	21. Minho - Snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for over 1k hits!!

As midday bled into dusk, a complete temperature change had conquered the Glade. Time went on and everyone worked a bit faster, tugged their clothes a little tighter, and tried to pay no mind to the air that began to chill rapidly. The sun, which had been out and beaming earlier, was now nowhere to be seen. Instead, the trees swayed against the harshening wind, curling in on themselves.

As boys came off duty, they edged closer towards the fire. It wasn’t much help today; flames flickered this way and that; heat barely cusped the knees of those gathered the closest.

You sat on a log facing the fire, head pressed against your thighs, cold hands hidden under your shirt—a strategic but unfortunately uncomfortable position.

Your maybe-saviour came in the form of Minho. The runner plopped down beside you, making himself as snug as possible, shooting a childish grin towards anyone who opposed. An annoying jingle sounded each time he bounced his legs—which was bad news for you, because he hadn’t stopped since he’d sat down.

Abruptly, your hand shot out and latched onto his leg, stilling it.

“Sorry,” he said, “just trying to preserve some heat.”

You turned your head, resting it so you could see him. You were glad he was back in one piece, but you’d be damned if you could think of much other than how you were going to freeze tonight. “How was it out there?” you asked slowly, trying your best not to stutter.

Minho tilted his head, his eyes never leaving your slumped form. “Cold.”

You found yourself smiling, but you gave his knee a push anyway. “Smart ass,” you muttered. You turned your face back into the flesh of your knees. Minho was silent for a minute, save for the sound of him blowing hot air onto his fingers. Suddenly, that warmth hit your neck, and you snapped upwards as it tickled. Minho watched you with wide, ‘innocent’ eyes. You narrowed yours. Slowly, his blank expression gave way to his familiar wide grin. An idea struck you and you met him with a devious smile of your own.

“What?” he asked apprehensively.

Instead of answering, you lurched forward. He tried to shirk the advance by sliding further along the log, but a protest and shove from his neighbour stopped him. This gave you the perfect opportunity to slip your hands underneath his sleeve, your palms coming to a rest on his bicep.

A whine escaped him. “You’re cold!”

“You’re not,” you giggled, laying your forehead against his shoulder. You felt him sigh melodramatically but there were to be no other objections heard. Your smile remained hidden amongst the crinkles of his shirt.

 

 

 

Ice-cold nudges against your skin urged you out of the cosy spot. “Hey,” you grumbled lowly, letting go and sitting upright. Minho wore the same countenance of confusion. You looked around.

No one had touched you. No, that was snow. It was snowing.

“Minho?” you started unsurely.

It took him a moment to focus, like the snowfall had snatched him from here and instead dumped him elsewhere. “Yeah?”

“Has this ever happened before?” Minho had been here for a year longer than you, so if anyone knew anything, it would likely be him.

“No.”

“Alright, shanks!” A voice suddenly called out. “Grab ya stuff and get it out of the way. Keepers, homestead, now.” Alby’s eyes passed over the crowd quickly, slowing down on both you and Minho. He gave a short nod and then turned on his heel.

Minho was up before you could even look at him. And, apparently, so were you—his hands had shifted to under your arms, setting you on your feet, leaving you to stumble after a hastily retreating keeper.

* * *

The snowflakes had soon turned into a wispy blanket of white. Some of the Gladers had clambered into their hammocks, while others had trundled out into the snow for some fun. Your eyes flipped back to Alby as he spoke up.

“Did I get hit over the head or is it really snowing?”

“Ya wish, klunkhead,” Newt gibed.

“A’int nobody sleeping outside tonight, unless you want to kill ‘em off,” Clint piped up.

Alby ran the back of his hand against his forehead. “Where else are we meant to put them?”

“Divide everyone between the homestead and mess hall,” you suggested.

“It’ll be a tight squeeze, but we can make it fit.” You shot Gally a gracious smile for the support.

Eventually, the leader nodded. “Yeh, alright.” He seemed to ponder something for a minute, eyes downcast. He looked up, his gaze landing on you. “You take the mess hall with Fry. Minho and Newt too, Gally if you need it. It’ll be a bigger crowd.” He paused. “Rest of ya shanks, with me.”

“Alby,” Minho interjected, his face creased as it did when he was concerned. “We don’t have enough supplies. Some extra clothes maybe, but it’s not much.”

“No shuck,” he swore raggedly. “Damn creators.”

* * *

After helping Frypan make a large batch of hot chocolate, you were handing them out while he sorted out some other kitchen matter. They were appreciatively sipped by the shivering boys who littered all four corners of the hall. Thankfully, your fingers hadn’t had a chance to fall off yet, as the warmth of the cups continued to save them from the wind that knocked against the windows.

Minho popped up besides the counter. You rolled your eyes in response. “A third cup? Do you really want to be making the trek out to the toilet tonight?”

“I’d do anything for hot chocolate,” he sighed dreamily. You laughed and turned around, moving a couple of cups out of the way. “Actually, I brought you your blanket.”

“Oh.” You turned to face him, seeing that he’d placed it on the bench. “Thanks, ‘ho,” you smiled. “You forget something though?”

“No,” he stuck his tongue out adamantly.

“No?”

He leaned against the counter, trying to provoke you. “ _You_ forgot my next cup. I don’t have all day, sweetcheeks!”

“You have all night,” you cooed, knocking his elbows off. “You forgot pillows and sleeping bags. Unless you’ve stashed them in your third hand?”

“Oh, shuck,” he groaned, his demeanour changing entirely. “I’ll get ‘em.”

You caught his wrist. “Don’t worry, I will.”

Minho’s eyes trailed over your face uncertainly. “Yeah?”

“If I die, you can have the rest of the milk,” you said, giving him a poke.

“Nice,” he grinned, stepping out of the way.

 

 

Outside, the Glade had almost completely descended into darkness. You trudged through the thin layer of snow, ironically savouring how you sunk into it, even if it did make walking ten times harder.

You noticed a lantern and a dark figure moving about the hammocks as you approached. As it turned to face you, you realised it was the keeper of the builders. “Gally? What’ya doin’?”

“Jus’ gatherin’ stuff.” You nodded, taking a few more steps, only to be interrupted by him. “Come here.” Confused, you listened. He shuffled a few things around and then dropped sleeping bags and pillows into your unsuspecting arms. “Yours, Minho’s, Newt’s. I’ll bring in the rest.”

You tried your best to compact everything so it wouldn’t fall on the trip back. “I saved some hot chocolate for you.” He turned towards you and you caught his eye, shooting him a faint smile. “Thanks, Gal. Even if no one else says it.”

The briefest of smiles glimmered over his features before he looked away. “Yeh, wuh’ever. Dun’ let the bed bugs bite.” You gave a soft laugh and made your way back to the homestead, finally as prepared as you could be for the nightmare of a night ahead.

* * *

To maintain sufficient body heat you had cocooned yourself within a blanket. Many of the other boys had followed suit, dignity be damned. Gradually, the chill from outside had seeped into the bones of those inside and became too much, so it was off to bed they went.

You stared up at the ceiling, listening to the soft hum of broken snores and slinking whispers. Imagining the twinkling of stars instead of wood and cement was the only distraction keeping you from shivering. However, it appeared that Minho, who lay near you, wasn’t having as much luck. You turned over after you’d heard his teeth chatter one too many times.

Clambering into a seated position, you saw him curled up, blanket stretched to his chin. With a heave, you slid towards him, taking your sleeping gear as you went. He jerked upon feeling the zip of his bag open.

He met your eyes as he rolled over. “W-what’re you do-in’?”

“You’re cold,” you stated, still manoeuvring your things. You pushed the pillow closer, sliding it half under his head. Then, by some miracle, you realised the sleeping bags could connect along the edges. “Perfect,” you mumbled to yourself, unaware of Minho’s staring. Unwrapping the blanket was the hardest part—it was also hard trying to not wake anyone, although that was more of an afterthought.

Eventually you lay down once all difficulties were fixed. Minho was shivering uncontrollably; you could feel it now. “Hey,” you whispered kindly, further encasing him in the blanket.

“H-h-ey,” he tried to answer, but more breath made it to your cheeks than syllables. “If I die, t-then you can h-hah…my runner’s undies.”

You tried to muffle your laugh the best you could. “Shut up, slinthead. You’re not gonna die.”

“I might,” he argued.

“Then don’t do it in my arms.” It was his turn to let out a chipped laugh then. Silence ensued for thirty seconds, until Minho began to fidget again. He grumbled some nonsense to himself before pulling you closer to his chest. He laid his face in the crook of your neck, blowing hot air onto your skin. “Jesus, Minho,” you shuddered as his cheek pressed against your collar.

“I’m cold.” Hearing your scoff, he added, indignantly, “what? Yuh words.”

You pulled away. He tilted back a little, rewarding you with a questioning gaze. Your forehead creased as you took him in: you noticed how blue his lips were. Your palms came to rest on his cheeks, and he leaned into them welcomingly. Your thumb grazed over his mouth, worry eating away at you from the pit of your gut. “Come here,” you ordered lowly. He obliged, nose bumping against yours. You stared at him for a moment, face blank. “Um, so where do you keep those undies…?”

Minho grinned, though it was soon lost to a tremble of his lips. He swore, trying to brush off the shivers that overtook him. You could feel his fingers crawling along your back, slowly drawing you closer. “How are you…war-mer…than m-me?” he probed, digging the icicles he called fingers into your skin. You shrugged half-heartedly, your mind still preoccupied by a deep concern as your eyes flickered between his own and the lower half of his face. His nose and cheeks were dappled in red; you could see that much in the darkness. You wondered if you looked the same. His eyes were half-lidded as he sponged off your body heat.

“Minho?” you blurted, anxious at his sudden lack of reaction. His eyelashes fluttered.

“Mmm…Y-y…Yuh?” he managed.

“You better not be playing with me.”

He didn’t respond to that one.

Fear got the best of you then. Your grip on his cheeks stiffened enough to leave red marks as you tugged him the short distance to yourself. You pressed your mouth against his, cold and harsh, but it had a positive effect as it led to a response. A few fleeting seconds passed before he kissed you back properly. Minho’s fingers brushed over your cheekbones and trailed along your jaw, placid as ever. His mouth meld over your top lip monetarily; his tongue, probably the only warm part on him, scraped against your bottom lip. You broke away.

“What the hell?” you hissed.

“What? You kissed me!” he hissed straight back.

“You’re hallucinating,” you huffed.

“Am not,” he sighed exasperatedly. His mouth fell into a still-slightly-blue, lopsided grin. “Was playin’ you though.”

“Screw you, Minho.” You hit the bundle of blankets that protected him. Your gaze flickered over his face, taking in his newly flushed appearance.

He smirked, nimble fingers already tangling in a curly lock of your hair. “At your pleasure.”


End file.
